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“What are you doing?” Wednesday spoke, as she approaches the blonde in the forest a bit of a ways out from Nevermore school grounds.
They weren’t meant to be out at this time- 4:15 am, to be exact- but they’d been exploring the woods aimlessly for hours, simply because Wednesday adored the dark and Enid adored Wednesday.
Wednesday had branched off along the ravine to try and find some sort of poisonous mushroom that she’d read grew in the dampest parts of the forests, whilst Enid had strayed toward the grassier parts that housed some flowers (mostly wilting or dead, yet some persevered).
Most flowers wouldn’t survive in the winter they were in, where if the cold didn’t catch them, the heavy footfall of snow boots would.
But a singular dandelion persevered, proudly among its fallen friends with its pappi fully intact, the cypsela standing strong against the torrential winds.
Enid was crouched low, smiling down at the flower, turning her head over her shoulder to regard the curious goth who had a basket of deadly fungi.
“A dandelion. Can you believe it?”
With a sound that mimicked a whine of metal on metal- Wednesday’s version of a sigh- she approached and stood awkwardly beside the awestruck blonde.
“Yes. A asteraceae. They survive by moving nutrient to their roots. Not very rare.”
Wednesday quirked her head to the side. “How odd that it is alone. We should kill it.”
Enid rolled her eyes, glaring up through her eyelashes at the brunette. She knew the threat was empty, her tone lacking it’s usual bite, but it was still disturbing to hear her urge to harm the unsuspecting, innocent little flower. More disturbing than the time Wednesday recounted Sighanidè Poiseawning would be a beautiful name for a baby girl.
Wednesday had found it so hysterical she almost smiled.
“Of course you would think so. We don’t need to kill every living thing we find, do we, Buddy?” She adopted a baby-voice, cooing, as she stroked the stem of the flower.
It made Wednesday want to strangle her.
She bristled, but abided. “Do something then, before I mame you instead for ruining my fun.”
Curious blue eyes met steely brown. “Like what?”
Wednesday huffed, thinking of her disgustingly-loving father. “Make a wish and blow on it.”
A beat passed- the sounds of early risers and wildlife filtering into their vicinity. Wednesday hated it.
She hated life.
Not life itself- because life brought her Enid. And Thing, considering he was sentient, and perhaps her own family. But life in regards to anything else was sickening.
“Okay, very banal of you, but okay.” Enid sighed, something soft and tangible, tilting her chin down and scrunching her nose in a way that let everyone around her know she was thinking. It was so saccharine sweet Wednesday could feel the cavities form.
At least then she’d be able to practice the art of dentistry, preferably in a dimly-lit room and no hydrocodone.
Under a dark and watchful gaze, Enid let her eyelids flutter close before she blew on the small flower, the tiny ray flowers flittering into the gentle breeze.
Enid smiled.
Wednesday despised it, and her throat itched with question she didn’t care to ask for anyone other than the blonde. “What did you wish for?”
Enid looked up, her gaze soft and warm and everything that made Wednesday want to strip her flesh off and soak her bones in something radioactive, and simultaneously bathe in the glow only Enid had- something moonlit and scorching hot the same.
With a gentle quirk of a smile, Enid raised her pointer finger to her lips, murmuring.
“Secret.”
-
Days passed, and Enid seemed to be in a good mood. Which made Wednesday far more treacherous to be around; like a landmine in the form of an edgy teenage girl. Ajax had tried to speak to Enid the previous morning during class, and had found his tongue sliced into four slices come morning.
There was no way of tracing it back to Wednesday, thanks to Thing’s cunning nature, but Enid had regarded her with that stern and beautiful disappointment that made every inch of her burn with the light of a thousand suns.
And it wasn’t all as good as Wednesday had hoped it to be. It didn’t soothe whatever festering red-hot-fury was brewing within, and only seemed to make her wish to cower under her covers and never be seen again.
But, still Ajax had asked (after the nurse had fixed his stupid mouth) Enid on a date, undeterred by the silent threat of murder.
And oh, a murder it would be. Wednesday had it planned down to how she would scare the visitors to his grave 10 years in the future, and when her roomate had appeared with a bright smile and promises of details after her shower, she’d fled to the same woods to throw sharp objects at a tree.
The same woods she’d spent hours with Enid in.
She had found the dandelion, and stomped on it, only for it to uncrumple itself and stand proud once more.
She took the scissors from the waistband of her jeans, and cut it into a dozen tiny pieces, just for it to re-arrange itself and exist, tauntingly.
She hated the stupid flower and stupid Enid and stupid Ajax and herself for not having anything in her vernacular aside from ‘stupid’.
She steadied herself, breathing in evenly and releasing the stress out with a puff of air that silently vowed vengeance and ill-wishing onto a certain gorgon (with a pitiful and desperate one she couldn’t voice out loud).
Her eyes opened, the flower had lots its rays.
Stupid Dandelion.
-
She had been playing the cello on the balcony, engrossed in the painfully morbid instrumental of Phantom of the Opera, when Enid had burst into the room, stomping onto the balcony with her back faced to the brunette, to her simmering discontent.
Wednesday hated when Enid faced away from her.
Thing, sensing the change in tides, hopped off the music stand and made his way to wherever he went when Wednesday was particularly volatile and unable to command him as she usually did when in a calmer state of homicidal rage.
Wednesday placed her cello down carefully, regarding the werewolf’s back with eyes as sharp as needles in hopes the blonde would face her.
It didn’t work. Wednesday tried to bite her tongue- desperate to not break first, but her heart was a matter of its own (the treacherous beast) speaking.
“You’ve been out later than usual.”
It was 4:40 am. Not that Wednesday cared, or noticed, that Enid had been returning around 4 am lately. Nor did she stay up. She simply enjoyed the tranquility of sunrise.
She loved colour.
She loved when Enid was colour. Yellow, red, green, white. Happy, mad, jealous, scared. She did not, however, enjoy when Enid was sad. Blue.
And she did not enjoy whatever aura she was currently projecting. A flurry of colours. A rainbow. Like that hideous flag she once found as she looked (snooped) through Enid’s side of the room. She wasn’t familiar with a country of said patterns.
She hated whatever the rainbow was that Enid was currently feeling.
It wasn’t something she could read. And Wednesday could read everything. Nor was it something physical she could cause pain unto.
She tried again, hands clasped in her lap and foot tapping to the ominous beat of her uneven heart, “You are not happy.”
Enid chuckled- dark and miserable? Misery was not suited for Enid. Wednesday would try and keep Misery far from Enid.
“No. No I’m not happy. Because how could I be?”
She spun around, eyes narrowed and pinpointed. Wednesday wanted to recoil from the intensity she’d never seen before, but refrained.
“How could I be when you ruined that? Because you’re so- you’re so obliviously and beautifully you that no one could compare.” She chuckled dryly, eyes glancing to the early sun breaching the horizon.
Wednesday blinked, a rare show of humanity, because for once she felt lost.
Enid spins on her heel, eyes fiery and fangs poking out and Wednesday thinks she’s never been prettier.
“You try and destroy a guy’s tongue because he spoke to me- because that’s why you did it, and yet that doesn’t make me any less in love with you.”
Wednesday quirked a brow, heart barrelling something fierce in her chest and swallowed. “Love?”
Enid inhaled heavily- like breathing was a task on its own, before unfurling the balls of her fists that she’d made unknowingly seconds prior, little crescent moons in her hand from where her nails dug in.
She was sort of like the facets of the moon, Wednesday noted, watching the conflicting emotions on pale skin and in cornflower blue eyes. “Yes. Love. I’m in love. Been in love since you walked into our fucking dorm room, all doom and gloom.”
“Hm.” Wednesday cocked her head to the side, gaze curious on the floor. “Interesting.”
“Interesting?- I just told you I’m in love with you and you act like it’s a fucking science project?”
Wednesday glanced to the sky, to Enid, back to the floor, then to Enid again, eyes ping-ponging. “I believe I accidentally wished on the dandelion. I had asked for it to turn Ajax inside out, but I suppose it knew my true intentions.”
Enid breathes, shaky. “And that was?”
“that someday I’d be yours. But perhaps that is only why you love me. Because of some form of magic. Very fascinating.”
Enid’s lips broke into a smile where others would be fuming- Wednesday loved the absurdity of the blonde. “You wished on the dandelion?”
Her fangs retracted, claws giving way for those hideous coloured nails that suited her perfectly.
Nodding. “Yes. After you announced your dalliance with the gorgon I found no harm in speaking to a mystical flower, as it seemed to not want to die.”
Enid chuckled, moving a few paces forward so her thighs brushed against Wednesdays’ knees.
“I wished you’d have feeling.”
Wednesday furrowed a brow. “I do have feeling. I just prefer feeling things of the macabre. That does not displace the fact you may be under some form of flora spell.”
Enid leaned down, her lips ghosting fuller ones, and Wednesday idly thinks heart heart may fail. “I’ve been in love with you since you mentioned murdering me. How’s that for your magical flower?”
“You were wooed by my words of woe?” Blinks.
Enid raises her hands to cup Wednesday’s cheeks, and she notes that the blonde is looking at her with the same tenderness her father looked to her mother all her life.
Her smile is downturned, nervous. Her mouth opens and shuts like she wants to say something but doesn’t know how.
Hands shaky on Wednesday’s face, she reaches up to wrap around Enid’s wrists, stroking the hammering pulse on each.
“Enid.”
“Wednesday,” she breathes, halfway between a whimper and a growl. “Please.”
And for once, Wednesday knows what to do as she surges forward to press her lips to Enid’s. It’s fleeting, but the smile against her lips is instantaneous.
She thinks maybe Enid is magic. Because her lips are sinfully soft and her touch is sending little flecks of lightning all over and it’s the most wonderful thing she’s ever felt.
And maybe, she thinks, as her forehead leans again Enid’s and the moonlight is softening her features and bathing her in some iridescent glow, that her father might be right above the whole love thing.